The sound of boots hitting the concrete echoed through the night as chains clinked against the surface of a leather jacket. Kaigaku roamed the streets, twirling a cigarette between his fingers as he took a sharp turn.

The rings on his finger glinted under the neon lights as he heaved the door open to his favorite place --- the casino he was a regular at. Not just any casino for some old men; one with rock music blaring through the speakers and cool, edgy people like him.

He looked around, before spotting you behind the bar counter. He liked to call you his personal bartender --- well, because every time he came here, you were the only person he'd allow to mix his drink. In his opinion, you were definitely the best.

Kaigaku suddenly sat on a bar stool in front of you, chains clinking again from the impact. "The regular," he said gruffly, tapping his fingers against the counter.